


To the exclusion of all others

by beatriceHB



Series: All that glitters [4]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 20:30:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4193865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatriceHB/pseuds/beatriceHB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles Vane finally acts on his desires, and Billy has to live with the consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the exclusion of all others

1

I watch them circling each other like a couple of sharks. What does that make me I wonder? Chum in the water?

Vane should have the advantage, with Flint naked and surprised. But somehow he’s on the back foot. It’s as if he’s embarrassed to be intruding here, in this place where we have no need of him.

It still worries me though, the thought of what he might have heard. I can speak to the Captain a certain way. I can even use him roughly if I sense that he needs it. But that’s just for me, I’ve earned the right. If Vane tries to exploit the intimacy we share for his own gain, I’ll kill him myself.

I bet the fear shows on my face. How Flint manages to make himself inscrutable I’ll never know. Before he let me hold him, I had no idea what was moving under the surface. But when I had him there in my arms, it was overpowering. The scent of him, the look in his eyes, the tension in his whole body. It was like falling off a cliff into waters impossibly deep. The man has depths to him that I’ll never fathom, not in a lifetime.

God I wish Vane would just fuck off. What does he think he can achieve here? Compensation for the man downstairs? Flint would give him that gladly, there’s no need to challenge him over it. I silently pray that Flint can keep himself in check. His face looks murderous, but then his face is no indication.

“What do you want?” he says.

Vane just stands there, staring at him. I don’t like the way his eyes keep drifting away from Flint’s face. He’s looking at Flint the way Flint looks at me, and the realisation makes me feel sick.

“What are you offering?”

For a moment I worry that Vane is calling Flint a whore. Christ if he does that he’ll end up as dead as his crewmate. But no, the mocking smile has gone. It almost sounds like a question asked in earnest.

“What do you want?” Flint asks again, and now I know he’s seen it too. The change in Vane. I stare at the dark and wiry creature and try desperately to read his intentions. His eyes flick in my direction, and I can see, what, some kind of appeal? Oh god, does he want in on this? That can’t be it. 

I know Vane’s taken his fair share of men, but I assumed it was under sufferance. He’s spent weeks at sea, sometimes months, it happens. Whenever he messed with me, standing too close or touching me when there was no need, I saw it as some kind of power play, just a way of putting me in my place. Perhaps I was wrong. Flint must be as bemused as I am, but he won’t show it of course.

“Well whilst you think about it, you might at least come in and close the door behind you.”

Great. Fucking great. I don’t see how this can end in anything good.

Vane strides in, looking about him as if he’s sweeping the room for potential dangers. His hands are twitchy, and to steady them he rolls a cigarette and lights up, blowing a thick cloud of smoke as if to obscure himself.

“Our alliance,” he says, and I’m actually glad that he’s talking business, “it’s necessary to fight what’s coming. And it’s come easier to me than I was expecting.” He glances at me furtively. “But I’ll always struggle with it.”

“Do you think you’re the only one?” Flint motions for him to sit down, and Vane slumps into a hard chair. Flint remains standing, and I note that he’s made no attempt to cover himself. I walk over to stand beside him. It’s meant as a show of strength, but Flint looks at me and notices my agitation. He puts a hand on my shoulder, shooting me a quick glance. If I’m meant to read something into it I can’t. 

Vane blows another plume of smoke, “well then you appreciate my position.”

“I think I do.” 

“I’m a simple man Flint. I just want to get my cut. And at the moment, as things stand with this endeavour, I don’t know what there is that I can get a cut of.”

I can’t bite the words back any longer. “You went to Charleston to steal his ship and fuck him over. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that. And now, just because you decided, eventually, to help him. An act which was in your interest, he owes you something?”

Flint looks at me appreciatively, “he makes a good point Charles.” 

Vane scoffs, but Flint goes on. “You didn’t have to help me, but you did. And I could have let Billy transport you and your crew here in chains, but I didn’t. The way I see it, we’re even.”

Vane takes another drag on his cigarette, and I can tell he’s playing for time, marshalling his arguments. “It’s not the past that concerns me, as much as the future.”

“In what way?” Flint sits down now and reclines on the bed, stretching his legs out in front of him. 

There’s fresh film of perspiration at Vane’s temple, and his voice is a dry rasp, “We need to be able to meet and talk like men. To plan, make decisions, agree a strategy.”

“And?”

“It concerns me, the amount of strategizing that goes on in your bed, to which I am not party.”

Flint laughs and puts his hands behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. “You’re labouring under a misapprehension, Captain Vane, this bed has seen no strategizing whatsoever. But I think you know that.”

Vane’s mouth hardens into an angry slit, but he keeps his silence.

Flint lets out an exasperated sigh, “here’s what I think. I think you would like a companion at your side, who is loyal, and respected, and who defends you to the last, to the exclusion of all others. You want what I have.”

My head swims to hear those words. He’s never directed them at me. Perhaps it’s easier to say them to someone else. I’m suddenly grateful that Vane showed up tonight.

“But you don’t have that, do you?” Vane looks away and flicks his ash onto the floor. “First you tried to destroy us by pushing us together. You thought the pressure would break us, but here we stand. And every time I touch him” here he points at me and I dread that my cheeks have gone pink “you feel a little bit more alone.”

Vane jumps up and stands glaring, his fingers are flexing and stretching and I can see the rage working on him, the hot blood coursing through him, preparing him to fight. Flint remains relaxed as Vane looms over him. I try not to tense up. “Go on Charles” he says, “tell me I'm wrong.”

Vane growls in his chest, a low rumble that sounds animalistic. “Stand up and fight me!” he shouts, so agitated now that he can’t stand still and keeps shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“I’ll stand” Flint says, “but we’re not going to fight.” And then he’s slowly getting up off the bed, onto his feet, keeping eye contact with Vane all the way up until their eyes are level. I’m afraid and confused, I think I know what’s going to happen next but I don’t know why, and I feel sick again.

Then Vane’s got his hand at the back of Flint’s neck, and he’s looking at me. There’s some kind of ‘fuck you’ in his expression. Then he looks back at Flint and pulls his face towards.. 

Fuck no!

Their mouths connect roughly, Vane is all teeth and Flint hasn’t opened his lips. He’s acting like this is something being done to him, not something he’s doing. I can’t bear to see it but looking away just makes it worse. Vane’s eyes are closed but Flint’s are open. It strikes me that he’s never looked stronger, or more in control.

Vane’s getting hard now, I can see it through his trousers and I want to go and kick it. He’s kissing Flint’s neck, and pulling him about by the hair at the back of his head, his mouth is all breathy and desperate. Flint’s letting him do it, I can’t believe he’s letting him. 

Then Vane slides down Flint’s body, clinging tight as he goes, and licking and kissing all the way. His mouth is so fierce, vicious as a predator. He still seems angry, but maybe with himself, not Flint. He gets down onto his knees and his mouth is on Flint’s hip bone. Then it’s working its way across to his cock, and I hear myself shout “what the fuck!”

But Flint steps backwards then. Steps away from Vane’s dirty fucking mouth. He takes his rival by the arm and pulls him back onto his feet. 

“Later,” he says, in a voice heavy with authority, “come back after dark. I think we’ll all find it easier then.”

Vane grunts and nods, “yes, that way might be best.” He still stands there though, and I think, _if you don’t move now I’ll fucking move you myself_. It’s like he’s waiting for something. Flint seems to understand. He grabs the front of Vane’s shirt, pulls him in close, and then kisses him. Properly this time, but not quite the way he kisses me. That fact helps me feel slightly better, but a cold weight sits on my chest nevertheless, pressing the life out of me. 

Vane does leave then, but with a backward glance at me, like an afterthought. As soon as the door closes behind him, Flint sinks back down onto the bed, and turns to look at me, eyes wide in disbelief. “That was unexpected!” and then he laughs.

I’m too hurt to speak right away, I just stand there hugging myself with my arms.

2

It’s dusk outside, and getting darker by the minute. A couple of hours have gone by since the incident with Vane, and Flint’s been trying to talk to me about it, but I keep shutting him down. It’s like he’s dug a trench between us, and in my panic I’m digging it deeper. 

We ate in a silence so frosty, it made the broth turn cold in my mouth. And now I’m outside, pacing under the window like caged animal. I know I have to go back in and speak to him before Vane returns, but I sense that it won’t go well for me. I may be no idiot, but he can still talk rings around me, and always has. The speeches I’ve composed in my head sound pathetic, childish even. I dread to think what short work he’ll make of me.

Finally, the fear that Vane will come before I’ve said my piece, drives me back inside. Flint’s waiting, his face tight and anxious. There’s so much relief in his eyes when he sees it’s me.

“Why did you let him do that?” I cringe at the sound of my voice, how it’s catching in my throat.

Flint strides over and takes my hands, “I just saw an opportunity to exert influence over him. That’s all, I didn’t anticipate that it would affect you like this.”

He sounds sincere, and he’s caressing my hands with his. I want to unsee what I saw earlier. I close my eyes and try to stop my lips from quivering. He looks down at his hands, gets ready to frame his argument “I’ve never had leverage over him like this. It’s been constant conflict, you know that. Sometimes I win and sometimes he wins. But always I have to think ahead of him, take steps to frustrate him.”

He lets out a sigh, “Christ, you know better than most the years I’ve wasted in fighting that fool. But now, it might be possible to achieve the same end, with just a fuck.” He smiles, “if I’d only known that peace could be bought so cheaply.”

Did he really just say that. “Cheaply?”

He seems surprised at my reaction. “Relatively, yes. Fucking him wastes considerably less time and resources than fighting him.”

How in God’s name can he be so cold? To him it’s just a move on a chessboard, but it means everything in the world to me. Can’t he see that? 

“I don’t flatter myself” he says, raising an eyebrow and half-smiling, “I suspect he’s equally keen to fuck you.”

He’s probably right about that, but I don’t see how it helps us, “Well why not offer me up to him then, if it’s nothing, what’s the difference?” I wince again at my voice, the pitch is creeping upwards and it’s threatening to sound adolescent.

Flint’s face clouds, “the difference is, if he fucked you I’d kill him. But if he fucks me, well, I trust you to have more sense.” And there it is, the little bit of flattery that he thinks will win me over. 

I scoff, “don’t assume.” But he and I both know it’s true. 

He pulls me close and kisses me, and I can’t help but kiss him back. His mouth is so soft, his lips brush over mine and his tongue when it slips inside is almost tentative. Is even this gentleness calculated to persuade me? Not for the first time, I wish I could trust his sincerity. I pull away and search his face for clues, and he looks back at me with such kindness, even a little fear that he may have pushed me too far. And I cave in, like I was always going to. I’ll do whatever he tells me, for his love, for his approval. To avoid disappointing him. Fool that I am.

He hugs me close, and then briskly claps me on the back, as if to draw a line under the discussion. “In time you’ll see the sense of it, I know you will. It protects us.”

I whisper my assent, but can’t help adding “If you think I’m leaving you alone with him… ”

“I’d actually rather you didn’t.” 

“What?” I don’t know if I’m relieved or horrified by the idea. 

He looks down, and I wonder what it is that he doesn’t want me to see. “I think it might be best if you stay, when Vane comes back. Then there won’t be any secrets between us. It’s sometimes harder to imagine things, than to actually see them happening. The truth of it might not hurt you as much as the thought.” He looks up at me again, and his eyes look anxious but hopeful. 

I’m silent for a while, unsure how to feel about this, but he’s staring at me, pressing for a response, “I don’t know if I can just sit there and watch it. I don’t know..”

He takes my hand again, but lifts it to his mouth this time, kisses my fingers in turn. And when he speaks it’s gentle and coaxing, but his eyes are averted. “I won’t do this” he says, “if you can’t suffer it. If it becomes too much for you, give me a sign and I’ll stop it. I won’t do anything to hurt you.” 

If that were true, he should be able to look me in the eyes and say it. But I don’t push any more, there’s no point. And since I’ve already come across as desperately needy, I might as well continue on that course.

“You don’t actually want to fuck him do you?” 

He grins, like he knew this was coming, “Charles Vane? Credit me with some taste.”

“But, how can you..” I gesture with my hand, and he laughs.

“The same way all men do. I’ll detach, focus on some part of him that I can appreciate. I mean, looked at purely as an object, he’s…” 

“You do want to fuck him!”

“Billy! You know it’s perfectly possible to get hard over someone you don’t like. A fuck means as much as you want it to mean, or as little.” He looks at me with new surprise “what, you’ve never fucked someone you hate?”

I bite my lip. “No.”

“Well, then you are a better man than me.” He strokes my face, tracing a finger gently along the line of my jaw, “you’ll just have to trust me that it’s possible.” He turns away then, and shoots me another half-smile, “I think this might defy your expectations.”

As he speaks, I hear footsteps approaching outside. A slow drumbeat, deliberate but not heavy, unmistakably Charles Vane. I freeze for a minute, not sure where to put myself. Flint seems to sense it, and directs me with his hands on my shoulders, pushing me gently into a chair in the corner. He moves quickly towards the door and throws it open, then stands in the doorway, legs planted wide apart and head held high. He has enough arrogance in him for twelve men, and I wish I didn’t find it so fucking attractive. 

Vane has to squeeze past him to get into the room, and even though he’s sneering as though it’s nothing, there’s something in his demeanour that seems slightly cowed. He must know that this is a ridiculous strategy that only diminishes him in Flint’s eyes, and yet some base instinct has drawn him here to fuck. He acknowledges me with a slight nod, and it strikes me that he’s less surprised to see me here than I am. 

Flint says “leave your weapons by the door,” in a voice with no emotion. Vane drops his pistol and sword “and the dagger in your boot.” Vane rolls his eyes, but eventually bends down and tugs a vicious-looking implement from where it was nestling by his ankle. It lands on the other weapons with a ‘chink’. 

With just one lamp burning smokily in here, the light is so dim it makes us all seem a little unclear, slightly blurred around the edges. Vane looks at me, and it seems he’s about to speak but Flint beats him to it, “don’t look at him, look at me.” 

He and Vane stand and face each other, barely a foot apart. I watch them try to stare each other down, a glorified pissing contest. Every part of Vane says he’s going to give way, so I wonder why he bothers. Habit I suppose. 

He eventually looks away, and Flint says “I thought so, get undressed.” 

And Vane does, not with any urgency though. Almost as if he’s embarrassed to be naked in front of Flint. In front of us. Flint’s face is hard, but as Vane’s shirt comes off I see his gaze wandering over the deeply tanned skin. I wonder how he likes the look of that body, those muscles so defined you could cut yourself on them. It does little for me, at least that’s what I tell myself. 

Vane is already semi-hard, the act of displaying himself to the Captain was enough to arouse him. His cock is now jutting out with a confidence its owner seems to lack. Flint notices too, and there’s a genuine smile on his face. It knocks me sideways. I’ve seen about four genuine smiles on Flint in my life. Some part of him must love that Vane wants to fuck him. Is it the satisfaction of having an enemy in your thrall, or something even less edifying?

“I wonder what your crew would make of this?”

Vane swallows, “thanks to your actions earlier, I’ve one less crewman to worry about.”

Flint makes a sound that could be contrition, but probably isn’t. “In any case,” he says, “we seem to have discovered a new unity of purpose.”

He steps forward then, and puts his hands on Vane’s hips, pulling his rival’s lower body up tight against his own. His smile has curled up into a teeth-bared smirk, a look I’ve only seen on his face in battle, and in bed. The pressure forces Vane’s cock up against his stomach, and the stimulation seems to inject him with energy. He grabs Flint’s arse and grinds against him, breathing heavily and reaching up with his mouth, desperate to kiss.

Flint’s lips are parted too, he dips his head, but it’s only a feint. He pulls back at the last minute and looks at Vane teasingly, smiling a little. Vane lunges again, but Flint dodges him a second time. Something sharp catches in my throat to see this play. I can just about understand the rationale for fucking him, but there’s no need for Flint to seduce the bastard. What is he about?

Finally, Flint allows their mouths to connect, and Vane falls upon him with ferocious urgency. My stomach lurches to see him sucking on Flint’s tongue. I try not to notice how enthusiastically the Captain plunges it in. Vane’s hands are everywhere, in Flint’s hair, pulling up his shirt, and cupping the growing swell in his trousers, rubbing and rubbing, and… Oh god, my own cock is straining now, and I want to give it some attention, but I won’t.

“On your knees Captain Vane.” 

Vane growls “you don’t give me orders.” But he’s not even convincing me. All the implied threat in his voice is gone.

Flint’s eyebrow springs up, “really?”

Vane curses, but sinks down to his knees and begins unlacing Flint’s trousers, as obedient as you like. Flint looks over at me and winks, and my heart leaps. It would feel so much better to be a co-conspirator in this, instead of a spectator.

Vane spends a moment staring at Flint’s erection, taking in the hard pale skin, all thick and smooth and perfect. I know it well, I can taste it in my mouth. He can’t believe he’s actually going to suck it. You and me both, I think. In the end, it’s like something just breaks in his mind. There’s no creeping up on it, or easing himself in. He just swallows the whole thing down, takes the full length right away, and then starts pulling his mouth on and off, like he’s done this every night of his life. He makes a whole fucking chorus of moans and grunts and strangled sounds, and I can tell Flint’s cock is punishing the back of his throat. This may be the first and last cock he ever sucks, and the tosser’s going to make it count, clearly.

For his part, the Captain is a picture of bliss. As he watches Vane work, his face is a mixture of surprise, delight and amusement. And he’s getting harder and thicker inside Vane’s mouth. One hand slips into the hair at the back of Vane’s head, taking control of the speed and depth of it. And then he starts to moan, little snatches of words whispered through his teeth, like he does with me. I worry desperately that he’s forgotten I’m even here. Sitting this out suddenly seems impossible, but calling it off will just make me look lovestruck and foolish.

I leap to my feet. Flint hears and turns his half-lidded eyes in my direction. He puts his arm out and beckons me, and my body obeys like a dog following a command. I run to him, grip the back of his neck and kiss him harder than I’ve ever done. And he kisses me back with passion. It’s a relief and a release. I strip off his shirt, and I can feel the film of perspiration on his back, and the heat that’s rising inside him. Then he’s holding my face, pressing his nose into mine. His breath comes hard and fast, keeps catching in his chest, and I can tell he’s on the verge of coming.

“You’re going to come.”

“I know. Shit I know. Make him stop I need to fuck him.”

With pleasure, I plant the sole of my boot in Vane’s chest and kick him backwards. The sight of him reeling there, mouth all puffy and eyes full of surprise, makes me feel a twinge of sympathy for him. But not for long.

“What was that for?” Vane says, looking at me with a smile curling on his lips. As if he doesn’t know.

Flint just says “get up.”

Vane scrambles to his feet, and Flint spins him around. He twists his arm behind his back, and manoeuvres the wiry man’s body forwards until his face is pressed against the crumbling plaster of a wall. I wonder if this is part of the appeal for Vane, letting someone else take control. There must be some release in it I suppose. It’s hard to know, my fate has always been in the hands of brutal men, I don’t know any different.

“Billy, get the oil would you please?”

“He doesn’t deserve it.”

“Nevertheless.”

I find the little bottle in Flint’s pocket and take it over to him. He reaches out, but I keep hold of it and pour it out onto my own hands. I want to demonstrate somehow that this cock was mine before, and it will be mine after. Flint seems to understand. In any case, he angles his body towards me so that I can reach his cock. With one slippery hand I close my fingers around his thickness, and under the smooth skin I can feel the taught muscle and the blood pumping through his veins. I know it better than my own now, so many nights I’ve reached out in the dark for it, and given the Captain his release. I don’t want to let it go.

But I know I need to leave Flint be so that he can see this through properly. Touching him and feeling his excitement under my fingers has left its mark on me though. I’m full of tension, my balls are starting to ache, and the tip of my cock is pushing painfully against the belt of my trousers. I can’t let it alone, so I back away a few paces and ease the belt buckle loose. My hands are still slippery from Flint’s oil, so when my fingers close around my cock it feels fucking glorious.

Vane starts feeling around behind him with his free hand, gripping Flint’s arse and pulling it towards him, trying to hurry him up. The Captain won’t stand for it though, he catches both of Vane’s wrists in one hand and pins them over his head. His chest presses into Vane’s back too, so there’s no chance of him moving. With his other hand, he takes hold of his cock and guides it into the cleft of Vane’s arse. I realise I’m holding my breath, and all the muscles in my arse clench tight as though I’m the one about to feel the Captain’s full length. But instead of slipping straight inside, he strokes up and down, stimulating and teasing, making Vane writhe and twist in anticipation.

“If you’re going to do it, just bloody do it,” Vane says, his words slightly muffled by the wall.

In a low voice Flint says, “beg for it.”

“Fuck you.”

Flint smiles, and bites him hard on the shoulder. Vane manages not to cry out, hissing through his teeth instead. But the tooth marks on his skin are deep, and there’s blood too. “Once again, Captain Vane, beg for it.”

“Fine. Fuck me, I beg you, you cunt.”

Flint snorts with laughter, “Well, I suppose that’s the best we can hope for. Good enough for you Billy?”

By now, I’m so hard I can barely stand. “Yeah” I croak, and at that Flint pushes inside steadily, until he’s buried in Vane up to the hilt. And Vane groans as he takes it, making a sound that’s long and low and full of yearning. I’m astonished at just how badly he wants this.

I was expecting it to be hard and fast, violent even. But instead they’ve got this slow sensuous rhythm, it’s like the Captain wants Vane to feel every inch of what’s fucking him. Flint’s easing himself in and out, all the muscles in his back and his legs are flexing and I can’t help staring, thinking _that’s how good he looks when he’s fucking me_  
Vane’s neck is twisted awkwardly as he looks back over his shoulder. Not hissing curses this time, but looking longingly at Flint with hooded eyes that seem to urge him on. I pray Flint ignores him, but I get no answer. Flint presses their cheeks together, letting their lips connect, and the tips of their tongues entwine. Their bodies fit together so neatly, and it’s like every moan, every breath seems to be perfectly synchronised. 

There’s a basic animal part in me that loves to watch this, these two muscular bodies fucking. It’s impossible not to stroke up and down my own cock in time with them, and the heat it creates in me is a useful distraction from my fears. Two conflicting currents run through me, crashing together in my blood. The first is pride and satisfaction that my lover can put Vane in this state, can make him surrender. But another part of me hates to see the man I love fucking someone else, and so obviously loving every minute of it. I can’t help but think of the easy familiarity they will share now, the intimacy. And the next time they are alone, what, snatched kisses? I feel sick and terrified. In his brutality, and his ruthlessness, Vane is almost a better match for Flint than I. For the darker part of him anyway.

“How long have you wanted me?” Flint whispers.

“I don’t even know.” Vane’s voice is low and quiet.

“All that hate for all those years,” Flint punctuates his words with gentle kisses along his rival’s neck, “how many fights did you start just to touch me? To wrap your legs around me?” With his free hand, he traces his fingers over Vane’s lips, and Vane answers by taking them into his mouth and sucking them, first one finger then two. It seems to spur Flint on, and his breathing becomes harder and heavier. Vane is panting too, sucking and licking Flint’s fingers with passionate ferocity, his eyes are dark slits.

“I’m going to come inside you.” Flint says, and Vane answers him by moaning breathily and arching his back so that Flint can reach even deeper inside. “I’m going to own you completely, you beautiful cunt.”

Hearing him talk like that, to Vane for god’s sake. It spears my guts with nausea and panic, but at the same time the wrongness of it creates a sick desire in me. My cock starts to jerk and pump, sending waves of white heat up my spine and into my head, fucking up my thoughts, making everything go cloudy. 

Flint gives three violent thrusts into Vane, and on the last I feel myself starting to spill. His back arches, he growls through bared teeth, and a shiver runs the length of his body. And in response, hot come spools out of me, spraying through my fingers, and splashing noisily onto the floor. Through the fog of my lust, I can feel some comfort that we reached our peak together at least, despite everything else. But as my erection dwindles away, so does my confidence and security.

I expect Flint to decouple himself from Vane right away, but he doesn’t. Instead he pulls Vane’s arms down from over his head and wraps them around his chest, pinning them there with his own, in a soft embrace. Every second he holds the pose, is like a new scar on my heart. He whispers something and they both laugh, and suddenly I want to shout ‘I’m still here you shit!’ The air is thick around them both, and neither seems willing to move apart and break whatever spell is binding them together. Hatred springs up in my chest and flows hotly through my nerves, without lust to distract me from it. 

I clear my throat awkwardly, and although he gives no outward sign that he heard me, Flint slowly lets Vane go. The wiry man staggers away, rubbing the places where his body has grazed against the wall, the red welts powdery with plaster dust. With a towel he wipes at the glistening film splashed over his stomach and chest, and I realise that the bastard must have come with Flint inside him. I resent him for it, for extracting his pleasure at my expense.

Flint says, “you know you can’t stay here?” 

“Yes.”

“And this can’t happen again.”

“No.”

Vane starts pulling on his clothes, and his weapons, although his legs are still unsteady. Flint does the same, and when they’re both fully dressed he extends his hand and Vane shakes it, all civilized.

“It goes without saying that no word of this..”

“As you say” Flint interrupts “it goes without saying.”

Vane jerks a finger in my direction “what about him?”

“I speak for him too.”

 _Presumptuous fucker_ , I think. And for a moment I imagine how satisfying it would feel to relay these events to Vane’s crew, in merciless detail, and then let them have it out with him. But even as I think it, my heart sinks when I imagine how Flint would react when he found out. I don’t want to test his anger, love or no love.

Vane crosses quickly to the door, but stops as though he wants to linger. His head half turns and his mouth opens as if to speak, but no words come. Instead he turns away and continues on, closing the door behind him softly, with all the stealth of a thief.

Flint looks anxiously at me then, his fingers working at his beard. The arrogance in his stature has ebbed now there’s no audience for his performance, “I suppose watching that wasn’t entirely a pleasant experience?”

“Oh, do you think?!” I can hardly squeeze the words out through my clenched jaw.

“Captain Vane and I are still alive though, which is to your credit.” 

He reaches out for my hands, and there’s pleading in his eyes, but I can’t bear for him to touch me when I’m so full of turmoil. I turn away and bellow, letting my pent up rage burn through and find its voice. My foot lashes out, turns a chair into splinters, and my fists pound holes into the wall. I’m beyond caring if this looks like a childish tantrum. Flint rushes over, grabs me and pins my arms to my sides, shushing and calming me as I growl and buck against him. 

I so desperately want to turn away his affection, freeze him out and punish him. But as the pressure of his arms burns into my skin, I realise that I need the reassurance of his touch now more than ever. Eventually I go limp and let him hold me softly. His skin smells like Vane’s cigarettes, bitter and pungent .

“I thought you would be hard on him.” As soon as it’s out of my mouth, I realise that I sound disappointed.

“I considered it.” Flint says, then his expression becomes more intense. “Would you have enjoyed watching me hurt him?”

My cheeks flush, and he’s looking at me like he wants me to say yes. 

“I don’t know… maybe,” I say, “but I don’t like myself for it.”

He smiles, and his eyes slope upwards, slightly incredulous. “I mean did you see him? The depth of his need? I had no inkling of it.”

I try not to sound petulant as I say, “I saw him well enough, he thinks he’s your lover.”

“Maybe so, but for that there needs to be love.” Flint rests his head on my shoulder, and lets out a long exhausted sigh. “All the tenderness in my heart, what little there is, belongs to you. Surely that’s obvious to you by now.”

I’m not sure it is. But the words are like a song to me, and one I could never tire of hearing. Affection washes over me like warm rain. I squeeze him tightly. 

“So why play with Vane like that?”

“Don’t cats play with the mice they catch? It doesn’t stop them eating their fill when they tire of the game.”

I should be reassured but I’m slightly horrified. “Loving you is like a sickness. For his sake I hope he doesn’t.”

“Consider again then, if you really want to live your life by my side. I need to know that you had the chance to go your own way, and you chose not to.” He lifts his head and puts his hands on my shoulders, searching my face with his eyes, looking right into my soul. “Know that I won’t be a comfort to you, or a caring companion. I will be like a piece of grit in your boot, or a splinter in your finger. Be rid of me, if you can.”

My head pounds like cannon fire, and the floor beneath me seems suddenly to give way. I cling to Flint like a drowning man. “And if I can’t?”

His lips press into mine, and there are a thousand words in that kiss, enough to fill one of his books. I know in that moment that he’s two people entirely, this man that I love. One of them loves me, and wants to create a future for all of us. And the other is a man who exalts in his own power and will pursue any strategy to extend its reach, no matter the cost to those he loves. I’ve no idea which of those men he is in any given moment, even now. And I don’t know what it says about me, that I stand and let him hold me still.

When we break apart he says, “I had thought you’d be my conscience, now I think maybe I’m just destroying yours.”

I lean in to him again, “so be it.”


End file.
